


I Cant Help But To Want It

by Basic_instinct40



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast), podcast - Fandom
Genre: Age old story, Angst, Boy in a coma, Joan his sister is a dick, M/M, Mark is kinda bratty, Mark kinda loves you too, Oh Damien, Okay these tags are enough, Podcast, Reluctant friends, Tale as Old as Time, The Bright Sessions - Freeform, Van sleeping, boy kidnaps boy who was in coma, but wait remember you kidnaped him and hid from his sister, falls in love with him, he has a right to be, just saying, lies to him about how he knows him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basic_instinct40/pseuds/Basic_instinct40
Summary: Mark wanted his sister, he wanted to punch Damien, he wanted to murder Wadsworth, he wanted for the last couple of years to never have happened, he wanted-Hit my will to leaveThe more we talkThe less I willIt nearHere





	I Cant Help But To Want It

**Author's Note:**

> I love The Bright Sessions, but I know I am in a small group of people who love Damien and ship him and Mark together. Oh, well thats what fanfic is for. This is for inktober the second day prompt: mindless. I feel like this is one of those stories you gotta stick with and I should know, I wrote it.

Mark never would have considered himself a liar before the AM put him into a coma two years ago. He never would have considered himself the type of person who lied to his sister, his potential girlfriend, or his new friends repeatedly. But considering recent certain events, it was safe to say that Mark Bryant was now a liar. When he found out the truth, not only what Damien was keeping from him, but Joan’s deceptions as well, the lies that poured out of his mouth seemed justifiable. He was beyond relieved to be away from Damien and the mindless rage that struck Mark every time he laid eyes upon the other man, but he couldn’t push down the anger he had for his sister despite their years of separation. Mark did his best to forge ahead with the reunion, knowing that it was a sensitive time for them all. 

Except, the reunion didn’t go as planned, not for Mark anyway. While he missed Joan and cared for Sam in a vague, romantic way, the summer he spent with Damien left him with unexplainable lingering feelings for the other man. Feelings that Mark couldn’t define himself and that worried him. Mark had allowed Sam and Chloe to drop Damien off at his apartment only hours after he and Mark had ridden into town, thinking perhaps now his mind could be his own for the first time in years without Damien’s influence or the AM’s meddling. Mark could rebuild the life that had been snatched away from him. As with most things, the task was simpler said than done. 

The first night back home wasn’t the worst, but it hadn’t gone according to everyone’s expectations.. It had started out the way he had pictured his homecoming to be; He and Joan had Sam over for dinner, where Mark was able to cook a meal for the first time in years. Joanie didn’t make too many faces at his second or even third glass of wine that he felt like he deserved after everything he had been through. Sam looked radiant and every bit his dream woman while she permitted her own glass of wine to loosen her tight shoulders. Sam kept putting her hand on his arm throughout the dinner, which would make her blush every time she made contact, which caused Mark to grin. “How could he ever let Damien fuck with his head enough to think she wasn’t real?” Which is what he said out loud, much to the shock of Joanie and Sam. Mark tried to apologize, but his apology had just turned into a rant about the shortcomings of Damien’s culinary skills.

“Would it have killed him to cook for us?” Mark shouted at the two women, waving his asparagus laden fork in the air. “He could have at least mind controlled someone to cook instead of shoving twizzlers into his gob every goddamn meal.” 

The night ended shortly after that with Sam giving him a chaste kiss on the check and a promise of tomorrow. Joanie had cleared out her spare bedroom of as many old case files, audio tapes, and college textbooks that she could part with, leaving enough room for a full-size mattress and Mark’s old dresser from his former apartment. She hugged him tight once more with Mark doing his best to relax in his sister’s hug. He wanted to mean what he said back in her office, that he could leave the past in the past, but he knew then like he knew now; that he was only lying to them both. When he pulled away, he gave her a small smile and tried to picture her the way he had when they were children. Joan had been his entire world, his protector, and caregiver, filling in the gaps their parents had neglected without guilt. ‘Growing up could ruin a person,’ Mark thought. He wondered if she felt the same about him. 

Mark had hoped that he had drunk enough to drift off to oblivion, but alcohol was not his friend tonight. He hadn’t slept alone for months, with Damien always nearby as a creepy comfort. Mark has had several roommates over his lifetime, and Damien shockingly was far from the worst. The younger man was annoying in his control over the television and his personality was nothing to write home about, but Damien wasn’t without manners. He showered fanatically, morning and night, and seemed to have bought multiple pairs of identical colored jeans and the same black hanes t-shirt. Damien owned a faded jean jacket and wore it every day notwithstanding the summer heat. Mark thought it was weird, moderately enduring, and a whole lot of sad.

The one time Mark had mentioned it to Damien, he had witnessed an honest to god blush from the man and heard him mutter “Fuck you,” before Damien’s power urged him to shut up and the want to never talk about it again over took Mark. Damien’s possessions numbered in the few and he hated cluttering the room. The few television shows he watched were reruns of Jeopardy and whatever action movies appeared on basic cable. The younger man even snored quietly and as Mark tried to fall asleep currently in his sister’s spare bedroom, the place that he had so desperately wanted to reach for the past two years, he now wished for the other man’s quiet snores to lull him to sleep. “How fucked up am I?” Mark said out loud to the ceiling. The ceiling stared back at him without an answer as Mark mentation all the nights he had spent with Damien.

He enabled himself to crack open the vault he buried inside of his mind that held the memories of the past summer. The moments that made him fond of and unfortunately grow to trust the other man. If Mark was being sincere with himself, he knew it wasn’t always Damien’s will that made trusting him easy. After Mark had gained Damien’s power he could have made him sleep on the streets, but he never did. Mark proceeded to share a motel room or the back of the van with his kidnapper for the rest of the trip home. He told himself it was for Damien’s safety, but that was another lie. On the last night Mark tried to drive straight through the day and night, hoping to see Joanie and Sam for his birthday. Damien’s mood had grown worse the closer they had gotten to the city, so he stayed silent unless pushed to talk by Mark’s will. Damien had been asleep or at least pretending to sleep when Mark fell asleep himself behind the wheel, veering into the other lane.The combination of the car he almost collided with honking frantically and Damien’s icy hands jerking the wheel straight snapped Mark to attention. 

“Shit Mark, not all of us have a death wish.” Damien yelled at him.

Mark had pulled over to the side of the road, heart racing, hands trembling, and needing to take a piss. “FUCK,” he screamed, grabbing for the wheel, wanting to rip it out. His mind was exhausted and his throat ached for a glass of whiskey. Mark wanted his sister, he wanted to punch Damien, he wanted to murder Wadsworth, he wanted for the last couple of years to never have happened, he wanted-

Damien’s hand on his back cut his spinning thoughts off. The younger man was slowing, but firmly rubbing his back with the flat of his hand in an up and down motion. Mark clenched his eyes shut, not opening his mouth to ask Damien why he was touching him. It was one of the things Mark wanted, one of the things that Damien could achieve for him immediately. Mark was irritated with himself for wanting it, but ever since he came out of a coma he had trouble falling or staying asleep. After a week of night terrors where Mark would feebly attempt to claw Damien’s eyes out, both men wised up to the fact that if Damien rubbed Mark’s back or scalp, it would help soothe him to the point of staying asleep without nightmares. If Damien tried using his power to calm him, it would have the desired effect of sleep, but it would make the next night’s dreams worse. Neither one of them ever spoke of the nightly ritual and it was only now that Mark realized the positive effect it had on him. 

“You need to sleep,” Damien had told him, the first words he had spoken in hours. “I can drive.” he offered. Mark snorted. “Yeah, fuck that, you’ll drive us off a bridge.” he shrugged off Damien’s hand pushing down the desire for him to carry on with the act.

“I have to take a leak. What about you?” Mark asked the younger man. 

“I’m good.” Damien replied not looking at Mark. 

“Fine.” Mark had yelled unnecessarily. ‘Damien is insufferable.” He thought walking off to find a suitable tree far enough from the eyes of the road. 

When Mark had came back to the van and saw that Damien had disappeared from the passenger seat, Mark had swept aside his worry and pretended he hadn’t known what the other man was doing. Mark had been mindlessly tired, and it was the first birthday he had been awake for in years. He needed to recoup before he saw his sister and Damien knew this. Mark walked around to the back doors of the van opening them up and found Damien setting up on the blown up mattress, crossed-legged and sullen. He wore the only colored t-shirt that he owned, a red t-shirt with the sleeves curled up slightly. They got it on the day Damien took Mark to a Super Target an hour before it closed in the middle of a nowhere town. Mark had been in the only outfit that Damien had gotten him, and unsurprisingly it was the same pair of jeans as Damien’s and a black t-shirt. Mark had explain to Damien that he would murder them both if he had to wear the same outfit another day in a row. 

“I don’t give a fuck how many times we wash it.” Mark had raged in the motel parking lot. 

So shopping they went even if the men’s department of Super Target left something to be desired when it came to fashion, Mark was happy to be out and about in the world. He had thrown the packet of red shirts, the size of which Damien wore, into the basket pretending it was by mistake. Damien paid for them without comment. The shopping trip was an uneventful but pleasant outing, with Damien buying Mark two John Grisham novels he wanted and a rubik's cube they lost days later. No, it wasn’t the camera Mark wanted, but it wasn’t nothing.

Now that Damien’s body was encased in the shirt Mark wondered if it was because Damien wanted to wear it or because Mark wanted to be reminded that not every moment between them was horrible. Before Mark could finish unwinding the cluster fuck that was this mess of power Damien patted the air mattress “Sleep.” he told the older man. Mark sighed deeply, but then resigned himself over. He nodded once and climbed into the van. The set about their oddly intimate bed routine getting comfortable. Mark took off his jacket and pants, handing them to Damien who had already taken his pair off. He had gone about folding Mark’s pants and jacket and had set them down next to his own folded pants. Damien handed Mark his bottle of water and laid down on his back wiping his eyes with palms like he did when he was sleepy. Mark turned on the white noise app that they both favored when they slept in the van. The app played the sound of a box fan and helped them both fall asleep on the road. 

“Make sure the doors are lo-” Mark tried to say. 

“Already on it.” Damien said locking the doors twice the way Mark preferred, wanting to be reassured of the van’s safety. 

They had both settled onto the air mattress, pulling the sheet over them in the slightly overheated van, and Mark had tried to allow the white noise app to bring some semblance of peace. Sleep had overtaken them both soon enough and, as with most nights since Damien had taken him out of the AM facility, Mark found himself in a nightmare.The tight chokehold of terror triggered his fight-or-flight response and with Mark’s temper as of late the only action he deemed acceptable when dealing with a threat was to fight. In his nightmare he would punch, kick, or bite his way out of any situation. He would die fighting before they took him again. 

And like all the other nights when Mark had a night terror, he woke to Damien calling his name hoarsely, “You’re okay, Mark, You’re okay, I got you.” Damien’s dark curls were plastered to his sweaty forehead and one of his hands was cupping Mark’s face while the other hand was trying, but failing, to unwrapped Mark’s clenched fingers from around Damien’s shirts. Mark had looked down at his hand, seeing he had ripped the red shirt in their brief scuffle for control as he jerked away from Damien pushing him across the van. Mark remembered wrapping his shaking hands around his head and closing his eyes, once more wishing back for the last couple of years. He thought he would cry, but he felt the cold clammy hands of Damien running through his hair, stalling his tears. Mark had opened his eyes and lifted his heavy head to peer into the younger man’s dark eyes.

“Your shirt.” Was all he had said. Damien stop petting Mark’s head to look down at the rip that also showed a darkening bruise on the center of his chest. 

“It’s okay,” Damien answered back, pulling the torn shirt off. 

He reached a hand out to Mark. “Come lay back down, there isn’t much time left.” Mark had opened his mouth to ask him what he meant, but snapped it back shut. He knew what Damien meant and asking would be pointless. Instead Mark laced his fingers into Damien’s and allowed himself to be laid back down like all the nights that came before. He let Damien pull the sheet over their bodies, and for his damp hair to be pushed back from his forehead by Damien’s feather light fingertips. Mark allowed himself to be told Damien’s repeated soft mantra, “You’re okay, you’re okay, I got you,” as he drifted off to sleep in Damien’s arms.

He had let all of this happen because it was what he wanted. Mark could have stopped it, he had all the control now, but he didn’t. When they woke up several hours later Mark shrugged Damien off and they both got dressed not talking and continued their journey to Joan’s apartment. Now Mark laid by himself on a borrowed mattress alone and he wondered if Damien slept easier without him and his nightmares. Mark could lie to Joan and Sam and say he despised everything about Damien, but if he wanted a chance in hell of getting any rest tonight, Mark needed to be honest with himself. At least for tonight. 

He willed himself to shut his eyes and lock away all the memories of that night, but as he fell asleep Mark could hear a distant voice whispering to him a bedtime mantra: “You’re okay, I got you.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. Find me at Basic-instinct40 on tumblr


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